The Second Sword
by Historian14
Summary: You know all the adventures of the Fellowship, what you don't know, the adventures of the children of the Fellowship or any of the others that gave them aid in the War of the Ring.
1. Prologue

By the dawning of the Fourth Age, there were two new children of the rulers of Middle-earth. The first born was Crown Prince Eldarion, son of King Aragorn and Queen Arwen of Gondor and Arnor. He was a sweet child, dark eyes like his father's and dark hair like his mother's.

Anawen, daughter of Lord Faramir and Lady Eowyn of Rohan, was the next, born into a new world of peace and prosperity. From the moment of her birth, it seemed, she loved the outdoors and couldn't help but want to feel the Rohanian wind whispering in her golden hair.

Two months after the arrival of Anawen, the occupants of Minas Tirith had welcomed two newcomers into their ranks: Rumil of Lorien and his wife Losdor. A year after their welcome, it was found that Losdor was expecting a child. After nine months had passed, Celebriel, daughter of Rumil and Losdor had been born. King Legolas and Queen Tauriel of Mirkwood were gifted the honor of being the newborn's godparents.

And far away from the Elves and Men, in Hobbiton, fair Elanor, daughter of Samwise Gamgee was born. To be raised among the corn-fields and lush meadows of the Shire, she would grow to be a curly-haired beauty, one of many hobbit-children born the year with golden tresses.

The four young ones-a Peredhil (Half-Elven), a human, an elf, and a hobbit-were of races, countries, months apart, and never expected that they would get to know these other children they had heard of. While equal in the eyes of the world, they were all in one way or the other superior to each other, a fact which, later in their lives, would play a role bigger than they could comprehend.


	2. An Old Friend

As a general rule, Anawen never let herself stay out as late as she had that night. She should have known that the guards wouldn't let even her-the princess of Rohan-back into Emyn Arnen after the gates had closed. But stay out she had, and was turned away from the gate when she had tried to come back.

It was midnight. Anawen knew that eventually someone would find out that she had been the one asking for entrance. That idiot of a guard should have recognized the daughter of his sovereigns, even in the dim light of his torch, which he hadn't even lit properly.

Moonshadow nickered softly in Anawen's ear, causing her to jump. She turned to the beautiful grey horse, giving him a sarcastically annoyed glare.

"I know you're hungry. You're always hungry. Didn't you eat enough when we were out in the fields? Stars of Iluvatar, you're irritating."

Moonshadow looked at Anawen with an innocent gleam in his eye. You're not supposed to swear like that.

"It takes one to know one, you little fraud."

But I don't curse like a sailor.

"You don't even know what a sailor is," Anawen often had these conversations with her horse, making up what she thought he would say if he could indeed talk.

Minutes passed, then hours. On the horizon, a touch of light could be seen, and still no one had let her inside the gates. Anawen knew something was up if the disappearance of Rohan's princess went unnoticed overnight. She sighed and slowly got up, startling Moonshadow out of his slumber.

Thanks for waking me up.

"You know what I love? Having a cranky horse who can't turn off his sarcasm."

You're the sarcastic one.

Mumbling curses of questionable social approval, a habit she had learned from the stable hands, Anawen took Moonshadow's reins and began walking towards the hidden door in the wall. In latter days, it had been used by the lord's hired merchants, who often came to the city late and needed a way to bypass the stubborn sentries that defended the city.

Anawen hadn't used the door earlier because it was extremely heavy and was impossible to find in the dark without a torch. Luckily, it was big enough for her and Moonshadow. Unluckily, the tunnel ended in a tiny shop that nobody used save on market day. She didn't know if her equine would fit through the door.

The square was empty.

After nearly a quarter of an hour tugging on Moonshadow's halter, Anawen had finally gotten him free of the door and was making her way up to her father's hall. The town was eerily silent. There was none of the usual early-morning activity in the streets, the homes, anywhere.

There was nothing.

Not even a mouse scurried across the road. Moonshadow's hooves were oddly loud on the cobblestones.

That was when Anawen began to worry. She stopped, hefted herself onto her horse's back, and urged him into a quick gallop, the rattles of his stride echoing off the buildings on either side of the road. Her first mistake: noise.

When she arrived at the hall, she wasted not a moment in running inside. No one. Nothing. Gone. She dashed into every room, looking for someone, anyone, any sign of life in her beautiful Emyn Arnen. Her second mistake: haste.

Every room was empty. Every familiar book and trinket and sword seemed to glare at her. Why can't you find anyone? You mean you haven't figured it out? They didn't want you! They left because of you! She was crying now, slumped against the wall. Her world was crashing down around her when she heard a voice.

Slowly, she lifted her head. Her steel-grey eyes met a pair of watery, bloodshot brown ones. Anawen looked at the rest of the person before her.

And screamed in terror.

She darted out of the door even before the echo of her shriek faded. The orc had barely had time to register her presence but was running out of the room in pursuit almost before she could blink. Anawen cursed herself for not being more careful. She should have known there was danger. She ran out the door, noticing an entire pack of orcs cowering in the corner of the courtyard, as far from Moonshadow as possible. Of course, she thought. Orcs are afraid of horses.

Anawen ran to her grey stallion, vaulting lightly onto his back and spurring him into his fastest gallop. She was shaking, a mixture of adrenaline and fear, and her mind blurred. She rode on and on, until she was out of the town and riding away. Only when her home was a dark smudge on the horizon did she slow Moonshadow to a walk.

Anawen knew she couldn't go back, not yet. But once she did, she would find out everything. She would fight an entire platoon of orcs if she had to, but she would find out the reason behind this.

It was nearly midnight, by her calculation, when she stopped for the night. Exhaustion had finally beaten both her and Moonshadow. Anawen hadn't slept the night before, and without even hunting for a place free from the wind, she dropped to the ground and fell asleep.

It was the crackling of a fire that woke her from her deep slumber. Who had built it, she didn't know, presumably the same who had given her the warm woolen blanket she was tucked into. She wasn't alarmed, possibly because she was still half-asleep.

But when she put it all together, she woke up completely, careful not to betray her consciousness. She heard footsteps, and the sound of brush being dropped into flames. Anawen waited, but there was not another sound.

Groaning softly like she was just waking up, she rolled onto her side, now facing the heat of the fire. Peeling open her eyes, she saw Moonshadow grazing next to a beautiful chestnut with a black mane. Now where had she seen that horse before? Her mind was still groggy from sleep, and for the life of her she couldn't remember.

Then she saw him. A dark-haired boy with slightly pointed ears sitting by the fire, staring boredly at a stone in his hand. All of a sudden, she knew where she had seen that horse before.

"Eldarion?" The boy, Eldarion, turned his head in surprise.

"Anawen! You're awake! I'm sorry, I was-"

"Spacing out?"

He chuckled. "Yes, I suppose. What are you doing all the way out here alone? I knew you liked the outdoors, but not so much that you insist upon sleeping miles away from home with nothing but your horse."

"Well, it wasn't exactly a choice. Emyn Arnen was-attacked? No that's not the right word. Maybe emptied is more accurate."

"What?" It looked like Eldarion was going to have trouble picking his jaw off the ground. Anawen filled him in on everything that had transpired the day before. His mouth opened wider and wider until Anawen couldn't stand it anymore.

"Stars of Iluvatar, close your mouth, you look like a codfish. I thought the Crown Prince of Gondor would have been taught manners."

"And I thought the Princess of Rohan would have been taught to watch her language," Eldarion replied with a mischievous grin. Anawen rolled her eyes at him.

"And why are you here in Rohan? Were you coming to visit?" she asked, changing the subject.

"Yes, I was actually. Only for a little while, though. I was originally heading to Ilithien. My parents decided to let me become a ranger, did you know? Anyway, Father suggested that I stop in Emyn Arnen. I haven't seen you in a while."

"Ah." The two fell silent until Moonshadow nickered. We should leave.

"Leave where?" Anawen automatically answered.

Eldarion turned to her. "What are you talking about?"

"Sorry, not you," she said. "Moonshadow says we should leave."

"Your horse said we should leave."

"Yes! Well, not really. I kind of have imaginary conversations with him. Sometimes. But I think he senses something. See the way his ears are twitching? And how he's stepping back and forth like that? He's nervous."

"Are you sure about that?"

"A horse is never wrong. We should keep our eyes open."

"For what?"

What should we look out for? She was unsure of her speculations, but she answered Eldarion with confidence. "Orcs. They may have sent a patrol."

Eldarion didn't have time to answer. The roar of some feral beast sounded in the distance.

"Wargs," said Eldarion.

"Quick, put out the fire," said Anawen, ever sensible.

"I'll do it, you pack up."

Within minutes, the spot was empty, the only evidence of their stay a circle of charred bracken. Anawen and Eldarion were long out of sight before the first warg, a huge white one, was sniffing the black stone that Eldarion had dropped.


	3. To Ilithien

It was evening. Eldarion and Anawen had long since stopped for the day, and were sitting side by side, with no fire for fear of attracting unwanted attention. They had found a small copse of scrubby trees, fairly hidden from the plain of open grass.

Anawen took out the knife that Eldarion had lent her and began to sharpen the blade. She'd been doing that all afternoon, a nervous habit, and now the edge was sharper than a razor.

"You know, if you're not careful, you're going to hone that so thin the knife will break," Eldarion said. "Couldn't you do something else? Like draw in the dirt?" He gestured to the ground at his feet, which was covered in Elvish letters and vague sketches of warriors and trees.

"It's an Elvish blade, it's not going to break anytime soon. And you know I'm no good at drawing," Anawen replied.

"Yes, you are. You can draw better than I can."

"Are you kidding? Look at those. I can tell that's the Tree of Gondor. And this is...who is that? Is it my mother?"

"Why would you think it's Lady Eowyn?" he questioned, tilting his head.

"Because it looks like her. Because she's a warrior. I don't know any other woman like that."

"Anawen, that's you."

A silence fell on the camp. Anawen turned and looked at Eldarion. She couldn't really see his face, but in the dim light of the sinking sun she could have sworn he was blushing.

The next day they reached Ilithien. The woods were hushed, only a short burst of birdsong breaking the stillness. Anawen was still wondering what exactly had happened the night before when they entered the camp.

A man walked up to the pair, who were rubbing their horses down. "Welcome, Eldarion, son of Elessar. And who may this be? We were not expecting another."

"This is Lady Anawen of Rohan, daughter of-"

"Ah! Yes, I know. I am Eradan, my lady. Lord Faramir is your father, is he not? And have you come to join the Rangers of Ilithien?"

"Yes, sir, he is my father, but I am not here to join your ranks. I am here-well, I didn't think to come here, actually, I'm here because of Eldarion. Orcs attacked Emyn Arnen and I'm the only one left. I was wandering around the Pelennor Fields when he found me," explained Anawen, gesturing to the dark-haired boy beside her. Eradan's eyes widened.

"Surely they are not all dead?"

"Oh, no, sir, I do not think they are dead. Every building was empty. I was searching my father's hall when an orc found me. I rode away and that was when I ran into Eldarion."

"More like I ran into you," quipped the said Eldarion.

"Well, fine, he ran into me."

"I was coming here and planning to stop in Emyn Arnen. I knew something was up when I found her-" he gestured to Anawen, "-sleeping on the ground in the middle of nowhere."

"You did not know something was up," Anawen quirked an eyebrow.

"Yeah, well, maybe I just didn't tell you."

"Maybe you just don't trust me."

"Maybe I don't." Eldarion folded his arms.

"Maybe I'm not your friend anymore. Maybe I should just go somewhere else. Because it's obvious that you don't need me."

"No! You're still my friend! I just-" Anawen cut him off.

"Right. And yet you don't tell me things because you're too afraid that I'm not strong enough to take the facts. Is there something you know that I don't? Are you keeping things from me? Do you know anything about what happened to my mother and father? Lle wethrine amin!" She was advancing on Eldarion now, pushing forward until his back hit the wall of a barrack, her angry face inches from his. Eradan looked on with concern, uncertain about what to do.

"Listen. Anawen. I tell you everything. I didn't lie to you, I promise! I swear on my life, I never have and never will. Please, just trust me. I'm your friend, I won't betray you like that!" Eldarion pleaded. He was a little surprised to discover that while he was taller than Anawen was, she seemed to grow in height when she was angry. If looks could kill, he'd be dead right now.

Anawen looked up at Eldarion, anger smoldering in her usually calm eyes. He trapped her in his gaze, and they stood like that for so long that Anawen felt like breaking something. Someone rested a hand on her shoulder and she turned, whipping her stare behind her. The hand belonged to a young female elf who looked no older than herself. Despite the gentle look on the girl's face, Anawen responded with hostility.

Twisting out of the elleth's hold, she grabbed her slender wrist and held it tightly, ready to break it if necessary. "What do you want?" she snarled. The elf's eyes were equally molten, and another staredown began.

"Let go. I do not mean any harm." said the other girl. And something made Anawen let go. Her anger dissolved. She hadn't realized it before, but her vision had become clouded with red. She sank to her knees, her heart beating quickly, her breathing unsteady. An arm went around her shoulders.

"I'm...I'm sorry," she gasped, and, her conscience satisfied and system overloaded, she slipped into the comfort of the dark abyss of sleep.


End file.
